Shadow of Truth
by True Believer
Summary: A new hero comes to Gotham City, but underneath his mask is the face of an old enemy. As this unfolds Tim is pondering his future, and he's not got much time as Bruce is getting older... R&R please.


_Disclaimer: I don't own Batman. Robin, Bane, or anyone else I've inadvertently used and abused in this story. I would like to thank DC for creating and maintaining such a high standard of characters I can play with._

_Author's Note: This story came after reading both Knightfall and No Man's Land in quick succession, each story made me realise Bane is too class and had a different story in him. I had intended to make this about Bane, but Tim keeps peeking in so its about him too. I won't spoil anything but you'll like it. This is very slightly AU, in that by the time the story starts Batman's been on the streets for nearly twenty-five years. Tim is in his early twenties, having come back from college and is still Robin, even though he's not so much of the boy or teen wonder anymore. I know I won't be able to age everyone accurately so that these minor changes work, so just suspend your disbelief._

**Shadow of Truth**

Bane was what he knew was called a 'man of means'. This basically meant he had ways to get what he wanted, it was just that those means were not working at this precise moment. A few years ago he'd gone unpaid for a job in Gotham City when it had been declared No Man's Land, that had been the first straw. He returned to his beloved Santa Prisca to find all his assets seized by the CIA, and had been run out of his home country. He'd spent several months travelling the globe, calling in favours and doing mercenary work in order to re-build his capital. Now he was at the end of his rope, sat on a Prague hostel bed, awkwardly because of his muscular bulk. His eyes were closed in deep thought, he hadn't seen hide nor hair of his American pursuers in some time and was getting frustrated. He knew they were not better than him, so where were they?  
A knock sounded at his door. He looked up and the door opened, the incoming person not waiting for confirmation. A bold move that would have gotten him killed some years ago, but Bane was not the venom-addled psychotic he once was. He had found not killing randomly helped him think clearer, although there were some people who deserved it.  
"I did not grant you permission to enter." Bane said nonchalantly to his visitor.  
"The knock was a courtesy. I was not asking for your permission," the man replied. He was tall, with dark blonde hair that bordered on brown and blue eyes that were cold and hard, his expensive suit did little to disguise a firm muscle structure and his walk was powerful. His voice did not lie, he did not think he needed permission, and he also knew who he was talking to. This man was potentially very dangerous.  
"Who are you?" Bane asked, intrigued.  
"Somebody who is interested in you. I presume from your looks, you are the man known as Bane." The man did not require confirmation and he continued, "My name is Caleb."  
"Just Caleb?" Bane asked with a small smile.  
"It's not even my name. It's what you may call me." Caleb dragged the solitary chair from the corner of the dusty room to sit on it, facing Bane, "I am here to hire you. For a long term job, which will pay well and offer you the safe haven you seek."  
"What makes you think I will take your job?" Bane did not need to know the exact details of the job, he would take it from just the impression this man gave. He liked this man.  
"It's in Gotham City."

Caleb and Bane had moved to a bar down the street, frequented by travelling students from the hostel. None of them bothered Bane. He was bigger and scarier than anything they'd ever seen, and they gave him a wide birth.  
"I will take your job Caleb," Bane said after downing a glass of expensive brandy paid for by his new employer, "but I feel I should know the details before I sign anything." Bane joked, he knew there was never going to be anything written down.  
Caleb sat forward a little now, so he could speak a little quieter for emphasis. He smiled very slightly, "Gotham is in dire straights. The gang war has taken a lot from everyone, and I find myself moved to action. Much of my resources come from Gotham, and I would like to see my assets, and more importantly, my city, protected."  
Bane laughed vigorously, "Gotham has the Batman. A more diligent protector I could not imagine."  
"The Batman is losing his internal battle," Caleb said with all seriousness, "the gang war was his fault. He lost another of his children in the fighting, and his effectiveness is falling. Gotham needs more protection than a shadow, it needs a guardian. I want you to watch over Gotham for me."  
"Me?" Bane asked incredulously, "I am a wanted criminal, I cannot step foot on American soil. You think I am in this place for fun?" He gestured all around him at the dingy backpackers bar.  
"When was the last time you were followed? Or otherwise interfered with by the authorities? I have fixed things for you Bane, you have been allowed to slip through the system and are now free to return to America. To Gotham."  
"I like you Caleb," Bane said instinctively, "and I have already taken your job. When do I start?"  
"Take your time," Caleb sipped on his water, "we have made preparations for you, but you will have to do some work yourself. And you haven't heard the conditions of the job yet, or the payment."  
"Go ahead," Bane drained another glass of brandy and pulled a cigar from his pocket, one he had been saving for a special occasion.  
"Everything you need to know is in this," he handed Bane an envelope and Bane pocketed it as Caleb stood up, "now I must be going. I want you in Gotham by the end of the week, my contact details are in the envelope."  
Bane sat back and read through the document and ordered a third and final brandy. The cover page read with what he supposed were his three golden rules.

1. DO NOT REVEAL YOUR IDENTITY  
2. DO NOT ALLOW ANY CRIME YOU CAN STOP OR PREVENT  
3. DO NOT KILL

This was odd. Mostly his employers only ever wanted him to kill, at least this would be a change of pace, he supposed.

Robin followed the Batman across the rooftops back toward the Bat-mobile. His mentor was a little slower than usual tonight, a fact that had not escaped Tim Drake's attention. They reached the car and the Batman put his hands on the roof for a moment and rubbed the bridge of his nose as if an effort to clear his mind and concentrate.  
"Batman?" Robin asked quietly.  
"I'm fine." Batman replied in his usual monosyllables, "little under the weather," he said when it was obvious Robin wouldn't let the matter drop that quickly. How he wished he was ten years ago, and Dick stood there in Tim's stead. Granted Tim was probably a better Robin, but Dick was never as independent as Tim. He never would have pressed the issue.  
"You're not fine." Batman was reminded again of who was under the Robin mask now, "you've been slow all night. I've had to take out people you've missed three times already tonight. It's been going on for a while now, what's wrong?"  
"I'm just in a little rut," Batman replied and got into the car, his face signalling he wasn't talking about this. They drove in their usual silence, back to Wayne Manor.

Alfred was there to greet them, but Batman all but ignored his surrogate father and walked straight to the Bat-showers. Why Bruce had to name absolutely everything after Bats Tim had no idea. Tim slumped into the computer chair and began to slowly and painfully remove his boots.  
"Rough night Master Timothy?" Alfred asked.  
"Not so much, for me anyway," Tim replied, maybe Alfred would know what was up with Batman.  
"Trouble?" Alfred asked, when Tim shrugged he took it to mean no more than usual and carried on, "I assume Master Bruce is simply feeling old. He refuses to talk about his birthday every time anyone brings it up."  
Tim slapped his head, "When is Bruce's birthday? I can't really remember him celebrating it before."  
"Lucius and the board are forcing him to this time, its his fiftieth."  
"Bruce is fifty?" Tim asked nobody in particular, "Perhaps that's why he's been slow lately, mid-life crisis."  
Alfred then said what Tim was thinking, but didn't want to admit, "The tragedy with Miss Stephanie hit Master Bruce rather hard, but all in all I think he may just be getting old. He can't do this forever."  
Tim pulled the mask from his face and looked over to the glass cabinets containing the costumes of Jason and Stephanie, both soldiers lost in a long war for Bruce, and he realised that Alfred was right. What would happen when the Batman stepped down? He'd thought about this for some time recently after returning from the dark possible future with the Titans. In that future he'd become Batman, taken up where Bruce had left off. That had made him think, when he'd stopped being Robin for even the short time he had a few months ago, he'd ached to be flying across what Dick called the rooftop express. The Batman was getting older, and was obviously tiring easier and had something weighing on his mind. But who would take over as Batman if Bruce stepped down? Gotham city needed the Batman, but Dick was Nightwing now, his own person in his own city. Perhaps the spiked gauntlet would fall to Tim. What in the hell would he do then…

Short Note: If you liked that then review, I'm not sure how much I want to carry this on but if people want to read it then I might as well. Can't very well keep disappointing my fans with unfinished stories now can I? I'm off to finish Four Stars now…


End file.
